Sunday, July 10, 2005

"But of all the flowers of Illinois, in the field
Or Meadow pond or by the rivulet
Under grassed hillock, the wood violet
By drifts of forest leaves concealed
Touches the heart's blood deepest with its hues
Like a pale sky its scent half unrevealed:
The legend of the land it typifies,
The pioneer who sought the river woods
And struggled with harsh earth, unfriendly skies
For life and beauty amid far solitudes."

Edgar Lee Masters, Illinois Poems

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